


la douleur exquise

by leafygreenturtle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Begging, F/M, Male receiving oral, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Teasing, blowjob, brief mention of feylin, little angsty, not really - Freeform, rhys is brooding and immersing in self hatred, slight femdom?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: Rhys sees Feyre having sex with Tamlin through the bond. When he can't get her out of his head, he decides to indulge his fantasies instead. Set in the beginning of ACOMAF.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	la douleur exquise

**Author's Note:**

> la douleur exquise is the French phrase for the exquisite pain of wanting someone you can't have.

Rhys rolled his neck, wincing at the taut muscles. It had been a long day today, and would be an even longer night. His hands still felt stained red from when he’d slaughtered the Illyrian war-bands who had slithered away after Amarantha died, thinking or hoping he would forget and leave them to rot the rest of Illyria. 

Cassian had seemed concerned, he knew his brother was worried about him. Especially this, the violence. It was unlike him. But he needed to restore some semblance of peace and order to his people after they had suffered so much. 

It was a warm, balmy day. He stripped down to his underwear and slid into bed, preparing himself for another agonizing night of nightmare-ridden sleep. 

What woke him, though, was not his usual nightmares of red hair and a leering face. 

It was another face. Golden brown hair, sharp blue-gray eyes. Full lips curved into a small smile, one she’d never blessed him with. 

Rhys saw her naked, on a bed, grinning. Inching up on the sheet, spreading her legs slightly in invitation. His blood rushed, hot and heavy, to his dick. 

He thought, at first, that it was a dream. A fantasy, borne of his own thoughts about his mate. But then he saw Tamlin, the High Lord leaning over her as his fingers teased at her entrance, and she moaned.

This was real. 

The realization jolted him so much that he snapped out of the vision-her mind, whatever it had been-and sprang awake. His heart raced, and he stared at his hand, as if he could see the tattoo that was on her palm, the one that he sometimes used to check if she was okay, if she was alive.

It was over. Whatever he had seen, it was over, and it had been an accident. He still felt guilty at this violation, even though it had been unintentional. She would have been mortified to know he’d seen her like that, in a private, intimate moment with her lover.

 _Not for you,_ he reminded himself. _That was not for you. She hates you._

He was still hard beneath the sheets. His heart stuttered a beat in his chest. He shouldn’t. 

He shouldn’t. It was wrong.

He was better than this. 

The image of her flashed in his mind again. Naked, gorgeous, full breasts heaving. Face flushed with desire. 

He swore, and took himself in his hand. He was stroking himself without even fully realizing it, registering it.

He was hot and throbbing, his cock painfully hard. He wouldn’t last long. It had been a long time since he’d last found release.

He accepted the self-loathing, braced for it. And then he let his mind wander. 

He imagined her in his room, in this bed, naked once again. Staring at him with those witty blue eyes that were always daring him, challenging him. Playing with him. 

_Fantasy-Feyre was looking up at him with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” she teased. “I thought you always had something to say. Cat got your tongue, High Lord?”_

_And then, before he could answer, she had lowered her head to take him in her mouth._

_He swore, hips jerking forward to meet her. She laughed around him, her tongue flicking over the head of him, licking and sucking until he was panting. Stunned, staring at her, this force of nature._

_She took him deeper in her throat, and he said her name, deep and low and husky. She moaned, eyes fluttering half-shut, as if the sound of her name in his mouth had an effect on her. She pulled away, sliding him free of her mouth with a pop._

_He was breathless, throbbing with painful need. “What?” he asked._

_“You look so pretty,” she said. “So pretty like this.” He didn’t have to ask what she meant. He knew the picture he made, chest heaving, face red, and cock aching and leaking. Needy. Desperate._

_He reached for her, and she let him, sinking into his lap as he groaned against her breasts, then took one in his mouth. She arched her back, eyes heavy-lidded, and tangled a hand in his hair, keeping him there. His tongue laved over her stiffened nipple, and he bit down softly._

_She cried out, nudging him off her, and sank down on her knees again, cheeks flushed. Her hand stroked over him slowly, but not tight enough or fast enough._

_“Ask me,” she whispered. “Say it.”_

_He hesitated. She slid her thumb over the tip of him, squeezing slightly, and licked up his shaft. A strangled plea fell from his lips, but it was not enough. She looked up at him, waiting. Expectant._

_“Please.” The word was wrenched out of him. “Feyre, please.”_

_She smiled, satisfied, then put her mouth on him. He groaned at the contact, at the wet heat and suction of her mouth, at the featherlight touches she made on his balls, stroking and rolling them gently._

_He thrust inside her throat, more instinct than anything, and she pulled away immediately._

_“Stay still,” she said, “Or I’ll tie you down.”_

_The thought thrilled him more than it should have, but he nodded, and hissed out a pleasured breath as she wrapped her mouth around him once again, taking nearly all of him into her throat._

_His hands fisted into balls on the sheets at the effort of not thrusting into her, of not moving or arching his hips up like he wanted to. He wanted to run a hand through her hair, but wasn’t sure she’d let him do that, either._

_She was relentless in her pursuit now, building him towards climax, and he moaned her name._

_“Please. Please. Feyre. You feel so good.”_

_She hummed around him, and he came with a strangled shout, his cum shooting down her throat as she sucked him dry greedily._

_He panted as he came down from his high, and stared at her. She had come, too. He hadn’t realized it, but she had been touching herself with her free hand while she’d sucked him off. She brought her wet fingers to her lips and sucked them clean._

_He groaned, feeling his cock stirring again. He wanted to taste her. Wanted it so badly he could think of little else._

He came back to himself, breathing evening out as his pulse calmed and he lay back in bed, in his soaked sheets. He felt worse now than he had before, and he couldn’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach. What had he done?

 _Not yours,_ his mind whispered to him. _She’s not yours._

He fell into a fitful sleep after that.

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts/comments, or just drop in and say hi at my tumblr! @rhysandswhore


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